All was quiet at the Charles Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.
It was one hour away from midnight and those who weren't already in bed were getting prepared to end the current day and begin the next.
The young but long-lasting couple of Jean Grey and Scott Summers had returned after venturing outside and spending time with each other, unabashedly entering the red-headed woman's room where they would spend the rest of the night in a loving slumber.
Professor Xavier was in his study, conducting late night work, filing the papers which were needed for Peter's enrollment in not just his institute but the local High School.
Ororo was in the kitchen, getting a late-night snack.
Hank was in his lab, researching groundbreaking advancements as usual.
Kurt was in his room, already drifting within the lands of dreams.
"X still hasn't come back yet?" the drowsy and tired voice of Bobby asked as he plopped himself on the couch, beside his girlfriend, Kitty "Katherine" Pryde who was simultaneously on her phone and browsing the endless channels the T.V had in one of the many recreational rooms that the large and lavish estate of Charles Xavier's contained.
"No, she hasn't," Kitty responded, their most recent student, a girl known only as 'X', had left with the instructors to go and visit a new mutant by the name of 'Peter Parker', who would be arriving in the morning tomorrow.
There was a lot of excitement and mystery that all the students had for the boy, along with the girl they knew nothing about.
According to the Professor, it was because of X that Peter agreed to meet them which led to his enrollment, and as such, theories were going around as to what his relationship was with her.
Kitty, with her teenage curiosity and lack of thinking, had instantly – without thinking, voiced the thought of him being a potential boyfriend due to the already pretty girl putting on makeup – an act no one has seen her do up until now, for her visit to the Parkers.
A visit she hadn't yet returned from which bolstered the idea much to the brunette teen's dismay.
"I guess that's why the atmosphere doesn't feel so depressing," Bobby replied, not a fan of the girl who instinctively – mistakenly, attacked Kitty after her stupid and well-reprimanded mistake of invading her privacy abruptly.
Kitty scowled slightly, nudging her elbow into his side before closing the small distance between them and leaning her head on the boy's shoulder which caused a slight jolt.
"Bobby," she scolded in her tired voice, taking comfort in his presence while also calling him out on the unwarranted and undeserved joke.
"What? Am I wrong?" he rhetorically asked but Kitty shook her head, "I wonder what the two could be doing?" he inquired, still suggesting his partner's initial – now discarded, theory.
"Whatever it is, it's none of our buis-business…" She yawned near the end as she snuggled against his surprisingly warm shoulder, taking the boy off guard.
"Debatable," Bobby replied, slowly – almost forcibly, wrapping one arm around her, taking the remote from her hand while the other hung on the backside of the couch.
"Not right now," she pleaded, bored and tired hazel eyes half-heartedly gazing at the well over-a thousand dollar television set, preferably wanting to find an interesting thing to watch rather than debate if they should press to learn more about the new girl who lived in their home.
Who had a name, origin, and relation to Logan and now, Peter Parker, which they didn't know a thing about.
"Is Logan out doing Logan things?" Kitty nodded upon hearing the question.
The burly man – who was her favorite among the four instructors, had left without telling anyone – a habit he did often, once the sun had set.
"You think it's related?" Kitty chuckled.
"If X is who we think she is then for Parker's sake, I hope not," Kitty replied which caused Bobby to snort.
"This is -" a professional and recognizable female voice said, capturing the girl's attention before Bobby flipped to the other channel.
"Wait, go back," Kitty asked her boyfriend, waving her hand to the right, gesturing him to do so.
"Babe, it's the news – late-night news, c'mon," Bobby stated, the nine-teen-year-old adolescent was much more interested in channel surfing than watching the news but already knowing what she was going to say he sighed and did just that.
Only to widen his eyes for the late-night news was much more interesting than anything else they could find.
"-porting for The Globe," The female reporter dressed in storm attire said as she constantly looked behind herself, "Reports indicate that the catastrophic hurricane which was felt by all who live here in New York City was not the cause of the abrupt change of mother natures will, but of super-criminal 'David Cannon' more commonly known as 'Whirlwind. 'Insider reports say that Cannon alongside 'Morris Bench: Hydroman,' and 'Merry MacPherran: Titania', were trying to thwart a massive police operation we don't yet know of, where they would be stopped by The Fantastic Fours, Thing, and Human Torch, however…-"
The broadcast shut down.
There was no cutback to the news station.
Just static.
Bobby and Kitty looked at one another.
On the highest floor of the pristine Fisk Tower, Wilson Grant Fisk watched with pleased eyes as New York City flickered and shook by his command.
The four-hundred-and-fifty-pound Caucasian man wore an extravagant and priceless white suit jacket with dark purple trousers, and leather dress shoes made from the skin of a crocodile.
The entire cost of the outfit being three times that of the average American income.
He scoffed, his gaze on the multiple fights which took place in his city – his kingdom.
"You've done well, Montana," He turned to his second in command, Jackson W, Brice, known only as "Montana." On such short notice, his enforcer – his underling, had organized their assets into strategic positions where they would encounter the proper foes. Knowing where the heroes and the police would strike was easy when officials inside and outside the police would constantly be feeding him information on their attempts to thwart his rule – his dreams.
The only outlier he could not predict was Spider-Man and Daredevil due to their vigilante status which kept him outside the law – outside his sights — but the horned vigilante was slightly easier to deal with because he knew who to look for – finding him was just the problem.
Murdock would get sloppy eventually however, and when he did, The Kingpin would be there to smite the devil but he was more so concerned with the spider-themed hero who was a much bigger thorn in his side.
Unlike Murdock, Spider-Man had power – and if his victory over the Lizard had shown him – more power than before, possibly even a partner who was just as skilled.
And despite his vast resources, he could not find a single piece – a single sliver of evidence that even pointed him in the right direction which would lead him to uncovering the web-slinger's secret identity.
Every single path he looked, every single stone he turned, showed Wilson Fisk one thing.
Death.
Death by complete obliteration at the hands of The Green Goblin.
He shouldn't have been surprised.
He's done the same thing to Murdock.
The degenerate who had come to him with the invaluable piece of information was buried in a ditch somewhere in the country along with those who would miss him.
From what The Goblin had displayed, he appeared to be a man like him, a man who didn't subject himself to the whims of others, a man who set the rules, not follow them, who did and took what he wanted – what was his. But no matter how much he respected the man who embodied terror, Wilson Fisk cursed him, for The Green Goblin took Spider-Man's identity to his grave.
If there was any consolation, despite The Goblin ending all possible leads to Spider-Man's cursed identity, he made it much easier for him to take over that weak man's – Lincoln's, empire.
During his year-long rampage, the monster's campaign targeted Lincoln's empire, leaving it weakened with each body that was piled – with each employee switching a suit for a twisted mask but somewhere down the line, The Green Goblin's occupation ceased – he disappeared for months before coming back with a vengeance, slaughtering many before meeting his demise.
"Do you know what Lincoln and the heroes have in common, Montana?" Fisk asked with great eagerness to bash the former 'big man,' interrupting whatever it was his underlying was informing him about.
"Lincoln was a small-minded fool, if he had just an ounce – a sliver of ambition, all my hard work for the last twenty years would have been for naught but he limited himself, kept himself in the shadows, kept himself confined by rules created by weak men before him," Fisk gleefully scoffed as his 'conversation' was just him belittling his 'predecessor,' an act he always took great joy in doing.
That's what got his blood boiling like none other, men with power following rules – subjecting themselves to others, when it should be the opposite.
People – heroes, like Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four, and The Avenger's had unrivaled power he could only dream of but they squandered it doing petty acts. Even Stark, a man who he once regarded with respect years ago had wasted both his money, his intellect, and his brain to give service to those beneath him, like the aforementioned heroes.
When Lincoln was in charge, fools like Spider-Man were allowed to roam the day as men like him hid in the dark, but now he stood in broad daylight, appearing on live television as the heroes connived and schemed in the shadows. One of the perks of owning the mayor and being in a climate where the superpowered wild west was coming into question, a couple of suggestions to people in high places here and there was all that was needed to to get them out the way,
Now if wasn't some world-ending threat or Hydra terrorist attack, The Avengers or The Four had to be called in, or join the new Super Human Response Division – which was out of his control due to S.H.I.E.L.D. management, but not his gaze.
It was easy to plan with the information at his disposal, and it was easy to deal with the heroes with the people at his fingertips.
With a single word, seas raised, cataclysms formed – the very earth trembled.
He made the rules. He had the money. He owned New York — taking full advantage of his power — his influence, to maximize his rule. He was better than that mediocrity settling Lincoln, who was probably off in a slum working, pleased that he wasn't dead.
Wilson Fisk scoffed.
"Any news on the shipment?" he asked, his voice stoic and calm once again.
"It'll reach St. Petersburg in seven days where they'll collect more merchandise before reaching Madripoor in ten," Montana informed, pleasing his boss.
"Good. What of that reporter for the globe?" He sat back down on his lavish executive chair, pleased with the sight from his window, and proceeded to do more of his duties.
"Killed along with his family. Daughters and wife on their way to Libya as we speak."
He did those duties with a smile.
Chapter 15: New Challengers
Divine forces revered by man throughout the course of history battled each other for supremacy, their conflict taking them all around the city, causing sheer terror to all who were caught in the vicinity of their otherworldly elemental battle.
Electricity and fire, both destructive and uncontrolled sources of energy responsible for life.
Electricity for the birth and fire for the perseverance of the most sacred thing in the universe.
Control over one of them being strictly to the gods in texts of old.
Jonathan Storm and Maxwell Dillion raced each other as equal opposing forces, defying the laws of gravity with their sheer power alone.
Chasing the volatile foe who appeared in one place and instantly in another, The Human Torch grit his teeth, speeding past the electrical storm which sprouted from the out-of-control, out-of-his-mind Electro whose mind and powers perfectly reflected the other – both of them turned up to levels of pure insanity.
Behind his confidence, there was a sense of uneasiness…fear…behind the adolescent's mind. To be up against someone so out of control, so wild – so volatile, it was different from his experience – different from extra-terrestrial aliens, flying ancient – also alien, dragons, and even Doctor Doom.
Doctor Doom was single-handedly the most powerful, the most fearsome, and intelligent man on the planet – in the universe. The only person who could ever beat him – who has beaten him, being Reed Richards, the man who Doom was second to when it came to intelligence.
But Doctor Doom – though, incredibly egotistical to a fault, was of sound mind – logical mind. The battles he waged against Reed were either about petty revenge which he was not above and the right to rule – those elected and chosen or those who could lead – forcibly if needed, the world into a better place.
He would not slaughter needlessly, he would not kill a child or a baby, not target a family out of a whim, destroying and shattering worlds – the regal man would only slaughter one man instantaneously and that would be Reed – solely Reed – maybe Johnny too, he wouldn't bet against it.
He was not like The Green Goblin who would intentionally go out of his way to just slaughter.
When he heard that he had been killed, outside of his immense worry for his dear best friend, Jonathan Storm was relieved.
Relieved that the nightmare was over.
But unfortunately, much to his dismay of having to deal with such a foe again, it would seem that Electro's instability had taken hold, resulting in the young boy being left uncertain if the man still had lines.
He was unsure of a lot of things when it came to Electro right now, all his past experiences were rendered useless for he didn't just fire electricity now, but was living electricity – containing power which could reach levels that both of them were just witnessing for the first time.
And this power brought Electro great joy.
"YOU'VE GONE SILENT TORCH? – WHERE'S YOUR JOKES? – WHERE'S YOUR MOXIE!?" Electro taunted, firing a storm of electricity at lightning speeds towards the boy who had just managed to change his course at a sharp angle, avoiding the high voltage strike which annihilated its point of contact.
"It's still here, I'm just trying to wrap my head around your plan, which by itself is making me crazier," He retorted, retaliating the destructive electrical blast with a blazing beam of fire.
"You want people to like you…forcefully?" He mocked as the two illuminated the sky with their primordial attacks.
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE STORM–TO BE INVISIBLE–TO BE A JOKE!–YO-" Electro yelled at the top of his lungs, changing in between his body form and a bolt of lightning to dodge the array of molten fireballs heading his way but he was sandwiched between that and an arc of solidified fire – of plasma, which hit him from behind - enveloping him, and carrying him through the sky.
"-You literally put a starfish on your head and you expected to be taken seriously? And don't get me started on 'all will bow before-'"
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHH" howling like a rageful beast, Johnny Storm's mouth froze in surprise upon witnessing the vast electrical surge – the showcase of limitless power, which traveled throughout the entire neighborhood, killing every single electronic caught in the blast and fiercely electrifying those which were not grounded.
The only one of which was The Human Torch whose body fiercely twitched and spazzed as thousands of volts traveled through his insulated suit designed by Reed Richards, paralyzing him and leaving him open for an onslaught attack from Electro.
Like a glowing ping pong ball, Johnny Storm was sent flying in opposite directions from violent attacks and blasts from the sentient lightning bolt which fiercely chased after him, not allowing the boy a single moment to recover.
"SOON YOU'LL KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" The living lightning bolt relished in his retribution.
The instant change of his emotions, the blitz which ceased any attempt to fight back or recover was too much, and like the electrical blur he was facing, Johnny Storm roared, his power contracting within before expanding outwards and shielding him from any further assault by annihilating everything around him in an explosive wave of incinerating fire.
Emerging from the flames was a much more annoyed – patience exhausted, Johnny who had sought to get this fight over and done with.
"I'll pass and I think my fans will pass too 'cause here's the thing Electro," Johnny looked at the growling, nearly livid blue man whose body was in the process of getting ripped apart by his much more frequent twitches which were spurred on by his violent emotions.
"I routinely save the planet, you routinely get bullied by teenagers," The Human Torch stated with the utmost confidence, fully extending his arm to ready a powerful blast that would end this battle.
The flames on his hands dispersed.
As did the flames on his body.
Gravity soon came into play and he found himself face-planting on a rooftop.
Groaning in pain from the fall, the boy lifted his face with a fearful, all-knowing, dreadful gaze full of disbelief.
He had just depleted his powers.
The battle between two goliaths was contained in a single – now flattened area, the ruins of a construction site being the ground that made up the ring The Thing and Absorbing Man fought in.
The ground shook, the rubble and dusted lifted off the shaking ground – the trembling earth, as the two titans – the absolute powerhouses of their respective factions battled each other with matching might and visages, but the determined expression of Ben Grimm, and the excited smile plastered on The Absorbing Man's face displayed the vast differences of the two beings heart's.
The two lumbering and sluggish beings giants of might traded blows which echoed when they came into contact with their cosmically-cursed rock-hard skin.
Wanting to relish in the fight more, The Absorbing Man had dropped his ball and chain and opted to combat his stone foe, who was responsible for his newfound might and durability, in hand-to-hand combat.
And boy he loved it.
"Holy S&it…You really are a monster!" The Absorbing Man yelled with exhilaration, taking a full-powered blow from The Thing which only caused his smile to grow larger upon feeling the energetic sensation of pain.
Powering through the attack, The Absorbing Man retaliated with a powerful right hook which echoed throughout the whole neighborhood they were in but even more to his excitement, his goliath foe tanked it as he did with his prior attack and repaid the Absorbing Man with an uppercut which sent him soaring into the air and shaking the very earth upon his landing.
"Shut up," Ben replied, spitting out blood from his mouth – irritated and angry from the literal mirror match-up he found himself locked into. The Absorbing Man was not only just a walking reflection of him, but he was also a talented and blood-crazed fighter whose boxing prowess was better than his.
"Come and make me," The Absorbing Man licked his lips – licked the blood seeping from his mouth and taking great pleasure with the thick, stinging taste of iron, and loving it.
"I think I'm gonna keep these permanently!" The Absorbing Man burst out in joy like a child who had just received his new favorite toy, but his rock-hard complexion, and his visage, combined in tandem with his words did nothing but irritate The Thing further.
Blocking an earth-breaking punch, The Thing countered by hooking the Absorbing Man right in the gut and using the recoil to give him time to haymaker the brute with all his might, sending him into the air like a flying brick and moving their arena elsewhere.
"KEEP 'EM, I DON'T WANT 'EM!"
"Ya' fight like a hoodrat!"
Luke Cage grit his teeth, feeling Taskmaster's cold sword graze his skin once more and pierce through it, leaving the burning sensation of pain in its wake as Luke tried to retaliate with another large arching punch which the man easily dodged, like all his previous attacks.
The skull-faced foe who incessantly talked had proven himself to be a challenging match for Luke Cage, often leaving him perplexed as to how easily he evaded his skills and slightly amazed by his traits.
He was stronger, faster, better than what a regular peak human could ever do – like him.
Powerman growled, "Well, I AIN'T, and don't you dare call me that 'less you wanna get your head smashed in," he upped his brutish and swift assault built upon years and years of street fights which Taskmaster recognized.
He also recognized the offence Powerman took.
"Hoodrat! Hoodrat! Hoodrat!" Taskmaster gleefully repeated, dodging and countering each one of Cage's moves, staining his once yellow – now red and torn disco-shirt even further with Luke's blood.
Each swift swing, each powerful punch, and uplifting uppercut Powerman threw, Taskmaster dodged – and it wasn't by a hair, he dodged perfectly, his flowing white cape remaining untouched and unstained, mimicking his swift movements elegantly.
But to Taskmaster's surprise, Luke had managed to see a pattern and baited him, leaving the mercenary open.
Realizing his trap, Taskmaster raised his shield which soaked up all the damage – instantly shattering it from the force of the punch which sent the skele-assassin tumbling in the other direction, dirtying his clean white attire.
Getting up from the powerful blow, Taskmaster looked at his shield and snarled, "Did ya' really have to destroy my shield!" He exclaimed with annoyance, discarding what remained, "This stuff ain't adamantium and they don't grow on trees!" he berated.
"Crap…I'll have to go buy another one…and I gotta wash my cape too! Thanks a lot!" He frustratingly yelled, inwardly scowling at the chores he now had to do, but all of those thought went away once he voiced his frustration. He dusted himself, visibly impressed by Powerman's attack, "That was some good stuff, been a while since I've gotten hit," He praised Luke who took this moment to come up with a plan and get a breather, "I take back what I said about you," Taskmaster twirled his sword while pointing at his foe with an impressed and eager smile.
"'preciated," Luke remarked, tearing off what little remained of his blood-stained shirt and exposing his herculean body.
"'Don't mind me askin' but how did ya' get your powers?" Taskmaster raised a brow from his fair distance, impressed and curious as to what gave the man of power before him his impressive stats and oddly fast reaction time.
"Why should I tell you?" Powerman spat, wondering why his foe would ask such a sudden and irrelevant question during their fast-paced battle.
"Just curious," Taskmaster responded before pausing, "You tell me how you got yours and I'll tell ya' how I got mine," Taskmaster added, appealing to Powerman as one businessman to another, knowing that if he wanted to get that knowledge he'd have to give something in return.
He did read the art of the deal.
Powerman raised a brow.
Now he was no fool, any bit of information could be used against him but the seemingly genuine nature of his assassin told him otherwise – and any chance of learning what kind of powers he had would most definitely aid him.
So he decided to give a short – very abbreviated version, of his origins which lacked many key details.
"Experimented on by getting submerged in a serum," Powerman bitterly stated, remembering what followed – the attempt on his life, which if you looked at it from his perspective – worked. Turning him from an average man to one given powers he never asked for nor wanted.
"Hmmmm…" Taskmaster thought, eyeing the man, "I got mine drinkin' a serum, enhances all my stawts but that's nothing compared to what goes on up here," he tapped on his head with his finger, "I was born with a photograwphic' memory, it enhances it so that I can instantly memorize every single move my opponents use, and replicate it," Taskmaster cockily informed, much more intrigued by his foe who internalized what was just told him.
The reason why Taskmaster could effortlessly dodge and counter his moves, the reason why he couldn't touch him was that Taskmaster had most likely watched him from afar, analyzing how he fought when he battled The Wreckers – taking in as much as he could before striking.
Taskmaster snickered upon seeing the look Luke gave him, "Whawt? I told ya didn't I? I did da' research. I always did like to study before my tests," he winked, knowing that his target had come to the conclusion all would inevitably come to when they faced him.
"I winged mine," Luke retorted, the two engaging in combat with each other once more. He was more defensive this time, knowing that he could no longer be on the offensive against a man who knew how he fought but Taskmaster upped his game, no longer fighting like he usually did but incorporating, moves, techniques, and patterns, which were wildly different from one another, making it hard for the man of power to defend, much less strike.
"So what?" Luke harshly asked, dodging an upper diagonal slash just barely, "You got all those powers and decided to be a merc? Or were you always a man who only cared about the bag?" Luke hissed but Taskmaster laughed.
"I always wanted to be a hero – actually, but found out I couldn't make money out of it. You can't necessarily live comfortably being a do-gooda'," Taskmaster declared dodging Luke's attacks.
"I do," Luke slyly remarked, attempting to thrust kick Taskmaster who looked at it and smirked.
He horizontally flipped over the kick, his sword following his movements and horizontally slashing Luke who powered through the attack and kept up his string off attacks.
As Taskmaster landed the moment his foot returned to the ground, Luke clenched his fists and aimed to smash the ground Taskmaster was on but he gracefully spun around the downward one handed smash, going under Luke's arm and horizontally slashing his rib cage.
"If we're playin' pretend," Taskmaster retorted with a chuckle that angered Luke. Pushing his speed to his limits, he attempted to annihilate the skulled-masked man but just like before Taskmaster dodged, clearly having more fun as his dodges resembled dance moves, even covering his mouth with his fingers in mock shock upon how close Luke had come to hitting him – which wasn't close at all.
"Been meanin' to ask ya that but what make's ya' a hero, anyways?" Taskmaster goaded, bending backwards completely to dodge one of Luke's attacks.
"What makes me a hero is that I fight bad guys like you!" Luke earnestly declared, increasingly getting infuriated with each move which missed its target completely.
"And then get a good check, right?" Taskmaster remarked which angered his foe further.
"You're one to talk, how much do you gettin' paid to do all of this?" Luke smashed the ground – shaking the street but Taskmaster leaped over him, slashing at his back and avoiding the swift backhand which came immediately after the two handed smash.
"A whopping one and seven zeroes – forty of which I'm gonna use to bring my goil' to watch the doll movie with!" He stated with a wink, "But I don't mawket myself as a hero," he added which sparked a more intense reaction from the man.
"I am a hero! A hero for hire!" Luke proudly affirmed.
"Yeah but what happens when no one can hire ya?" Taskmaster rebuked.
"That's their problem!" he yelled, anger fueling his answer.
"Thawt's what I say!" Taskmaster expressed with a happy expression like he just stumbled upon someone like him.
"I'm nothin' like you," Luke hissed, realizing that he had said something in his anger which he didn't mean.
"Really? Cawse the way I see it, da' only difference between us is the one payin' our salary."
"And the hole in your abdomen," He added, pointing down at the gaping wound caused by sword which stained his white glove and hood.
Taskmaster snapped his fingers.
It was dark.
The smell of sweat, the scuffling of movement, the feeling of the wind with each swift strike dictated what the blind vigilante would do, his maniacal opponent's incessant words which aimed to get to him, aiding him along with his sixth sense, but having to constantly listen – to obey what his senses said, required him to listen to every word spoken, every word whispered, by the psychopathic killer in front of him.
A relentless, heartless, killer who didn't just enjoy the slaughter he conducted, but whose psychosis also demanded him to push – to break the minds of the ones he sought to end.
It was dark, and all he had were the words which rang through his mind by an opponent who unfortunately knew more about him than he liked.
Who knew how to get into his head.
"Your heart is poundin', cold sweat is pourin' down your face – down your body. You're over here fightin' me but your mind is preoccupied. You're wonderin' if the safe house your stayin' in right now is compromised, wonderin' if I'm the last foe you'll face tonight," Bullseye's voice dripped with malice, taking great joy pushing him not just physically, but mentally too. They battled on equal terms – like they always did, the crazed man creating a distance before throwing in an array of razor-sharp playing cards Daredevil weaved through before sucker punching the foe right in the face, but Bullseye wasn't a regular human.
He was not super, but the man did have his bones covered in strips of adamantium, allowing him to soak up his punch with a smile, and retaliate with a flip kick which sent the horned vigilante on his back.
"Wonderin' if you can endure," Bullseye continued, eagerly goading his foe, knowing full well just based on looks – how he fought, that he was a plank of wood put under a great stain on the precipice of breaking.
"Be quiet, Bullseye," Daredevil spat, getting back onto his feet, but his vocal response which was so different from his usual silence had told the serial murderer he was starting to win on the mental playing field.
"Why!? I'm havin' fun. I love bein' the one to break it to ya, ol' buddy – ol' pal, but the safehouse you're stayin' in is compromised," He hissed with joy, "You're gonna have to move somewhere else or The Kingpin will come get ya for the hundredth time this month," Bullseye blocked a blow from his foe, spitting in his face before following it up by tripping him.
"I'm gonna be the last foe you'll face but not today, no, no…today…today I'll have my fun – let you suffer, leave you alive so you can go wriggle and worm back to build yourself back up only to crumble back down because. THATS. HOW. YOU. REALLY. KILL. SOM-" Bullseye was silenced when a metallic button struck the bottom of his jaw, jolting his sinuses and altering his blood and oxygen flow which caused the man's consciousness to leave his body temporarily.
"I said be quiet," The horned vigilante hissed, spitting in his foe's face.
Johnny Storm was sitting atop the giant torch held by Lady Liberty herself, his friend – Peter Parker, sitting with him as the two ate ice cream.
It was their spot, their big getaway from the city and super heroics.
A spot where they can just be teenagers, and more importantly – friends.
"So you ran out of gas," The unmasked Web-Slinger stated, licking the large vanilla ice cream he always got and would always defend.
"Yeah…" Johnny admitted, licking his own chocolate one due to the unquenchable hunger for sweetness he had.
"Can't you like? Hypothetically, destroy a small moon with your power?" Peter brought up, turning to his friends with a perplexed look.
"Yeah..." Johnny reluctantly verified, unable to meet Peter's gaze.
"So how do you manage to run out?" The ultimate question about his current situation was asked.
"..."
"I'm fasting," he let out, completely and utterly embarrassed that the reason for his dire situation was because of his dietary choices. His body turned nutrients into energy which enabled him to use his flames, now the conversion from a meal to usable energy was vast, adding a couple of extra hours of normal use but with the one-and-a-half meal with a bunch of snacks diet he's been doing, along with the more frequent use of his powers due to patrol, and the sher display of his power earlier, he had used up his energy sources.
His friend didn't respond.
"What?" Johnny snapped, wanting his friend to say something, "Not all of us have super stamina and regeneration which makes getting a six-pack easy!" Johnny defended his actions.
"Johnny…"
"Don't say it…don't you dare say it."
"You're an idiot."
"You're not helping!" Johnny vocally replied, running for his life atop the New York rooftops, the heat of annihilation literally on his heels as bolts of lighting aimed to incinerate him.
Zipping past him, behind him – all around him, Electro took great enjoyment in the situation the boy was currently in.
But helpless was a word Johnny Storm hated – a word he was not.
He used what little energy he had to fire blasts from the tip of his finger at the eye of the electrical storm behind him.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" The voice of Peter rhetorically asked from his mindscape as Johnny blasted at Electros' static form.
"I want you to start helping!" He asked, heart skipping a beat as he barely dodged another one of Electro's high-voltage blasts. He was out of his element – literally, depowered, running on fumes; the only reason he was even still standing being the madhouse who chased him wanting to toy with him, his cosmically powered physiology which gave him durability, and the insulated – covered in scorch marks, Fantastic Four uniform.
Which was put to the test again as an electrical bolt struck him, having the young boy squeal in pain and lose his footing, falling off the building in sheer terror before having his screams be silenced upon landing in a garbage bin.
At least he was immune to burns.
"Look, I would love to, but I don't have a lot to go off of since I'm using your brain," Peter quipped while Johnny instantly hopped out of the bin before it was propelled in the air by a devastating blast.
Peter made it seem a whole lot easier when he dodged Electro's lightning bolts with ease, but then again, Peter was just about super in every stat and his stupid spider-sense which was just unreal.
"You're just mad that it works at video games too," Johnny's figmentation of Peter quipped.
He was mad that it worked at that too.
But that was a negligent thought for the teenage boy's mind raced, the voice of his sister berating him for expending too much energy as she worryingly told him to find a safe place and reassess the issue.
But with each and every building within the block, the city – the state, being powered by electricity, there was no place that was safe from Electro's presence.
"Are your jokes still there!?" Electro enthusiastically and provokingly yelled, chasing the boy, embodying a force of pure destruction, the wild lightning storm which originated from him getting increasingly more violent and powerful, covering the street in what seemed to be a wall of electricity.
Johnny didn't respond as sweat dripped from his forehead.
The voice of Reed tried giving him ways to beat Electro but all of them seemed implausible with his current situation.
He grit his teeth in anger.
Dammit it.
He's a part of the world's greatest superhero team – a team full of world-renowned scientists.
His sister is a leading figure in her area of study, her boyfriend, his mentor, and his teammate, Reed was the smartest man on the planet, his best friend was a boy genius who – with no doubt in Johnny's mind, would one day stand amongst a pantheon of intellects and yet he couldn't even figure out how to beat a mentally unstable guy who was allergic to water.
His eyes lit up.
Water.
"There ya' go Torchie, ya' do have a brain up there after all," the voice of Ben praised.
"Hey, we never said he didn't, I'm team Torch all the way!" The voice of Peter defended.
With a newfound plan, the boy eyed his surroundings while he bolted down the street – a New York Street.
New York City was synonymous with a lot of things: crippling rent, high crime rates, poor governmental management, construction projects which take far longer than they should, hotdogs, the only place for an alien invasion to happen, neon lights and signs which illuminate the night sky, and water towers.
Water towers that littered the rooftops of most buildings, and as luck would have it, there was one right in front of him.
Running as fast as he could, pushing his body which he spent countless hours to maintain for situations like this, he bolted while the electrical storm behind him flung street poles, cars, and just about every metallic surface which could be lifted.
Taking great pleasure in playing with his food, Electro – who has always been a joke that was looked down upon, would make sure that this would last until he was satiated.
He watched one of his tormentors squirm and run like a rat from a cat, breathing loudly and frantically, ducking behind the vehicles he flung at him through his powers of magnetism which he received due to some science he didn't understand.
"HOW DOES IT FEEL STORM!? TO BE ON THE OTHER END OF SOMEONE'S POWER – TO BE MOCKED, TO BE HUMILIATED?"
"Nothing new to me, I've been in the public school system my whole life," Johnny retorted but his sly expression would soon change as in a fit of rage and fury, a blast he could not dodge sent him off his feet, roaring in pain once more due his current airborne status leaving the electricity to travel nowhere but throughout his body.
Tumbling down the street with his back blackened, Johnny Storm looked through his squinted eyelids to see the airborne figure of Electro hovering just above him.
A malicious expression on his face like an animal cornering its prey.
Widening his eyes though, Electro just barely moved out of the way from the last bit of Storm's power which rocketed up to the sky.
Electro looked at it before turning back to his soon-to-be victim, scoffing at his final attempt to try and escape his fate.
"Well…you won't be anymore," he growled with hate intermingled with excitement, but instead of fear, the teenage boy who he was about to wipe from the face of the earth grinned.
"Let's drink to that, I'll have water," Johnny confidently stated, pointing upwards.
Electro instinctively following his gaze before his blue body was squashed by a wooden tower which contained hundreds of tons of water.
Bringing the embodiment of electricity back down to the ground, Electro howled in a string of hate and curses before he was inevitably silenced by the bursting of the tower which submerged the street – and Johnny, in a giant wave of electrified water, which…in Johnny's mind…was not pleasant.
It really was not pleasant.
When everything dried out, the young boy was on his back, lying down on a thin layer of water which was slowly dissipating – his foe was nowhere to be found.
He coughed.
He wheezed.
He rested on the street.
He'd take the bullying he received in public school over facing Electro again.
Then again, in his current situation, Johnny Storm didn't think public school would wanna take him.
God, an institute for gifted youngsters seemed so cool.
This was just a short one to show you the themes and battles of the future characters, it was originally supposed to be in the next chapter but that would have ruined the pacing and take away time from Peter and Laura.